


Episode 3: Black and White

by ysse_writes



Series: Six Against The Dealer [3]
Category: Space: Above and Beyond
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-21
Updated: 2011-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-26 09:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ysse_writes/pseuds/ysse_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode 3 of "Six Against The Dealer."<br/>The Wildcards go o an ice planet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Episode 3: Black and White

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Space" Above and Beyond" are the creations of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Fox Broadcasting and Hard Eight Productions, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> However, "Six Against The Dealer" and all its episodes, as well as all non-canon characters, especially Morgan Tyler, Jordan Rain, Sarah Cullen, Mariah Pagodin, and Hudson O'Neill (and whoever else I might think of in the course of writing this thing), are mine and should not be used without my express permission.
> 
> Also, the biases and prejudices found in this story are of the characters themselves and do not necessarily reflect my own beliefs.
> 
> The name "Gethen" is from the Ursula K. LeGuin novel "The Left Hand of Darkness" and is used without permission.
> 
> "The Cremation of Sam McGee" is by Robert William Service, also used without permission.
> 
> Rating for this particular episode is R, for language, violence, and scenes lacking in clothing. ;) (Special note to specific people who are waiting for a certain scene… ep 4, I swear.)
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

* * *

 

 _I love to see, when leaves depart,  
The clear anatomy arrive,  
Winter, the paragon of art,  
That kills all forms of life and feeling  
Save what is pure and will survive.  
\- Roy Campbell  
"Autumn"_

 _  
_

Lt. Nathan West was quiet as he entered the 58th barracks.   He hadn't done well in the earlier skirmish but for some reason, he didn't really care. Though he never really had the taste for bloodshed and warfare that his fellow Marines seemed to have, he at least used to pride himself in being one of the best pilots on the _USS Saratoga_.  He knew for a fact that people were _still_ talking about the time he wiped out six Chigs at the same time through his fancy flying during the Battle of the Belt. Now he was content to just support the others and let them have the dubious honor of blowing the enemy away.

He threw his flight helmet on his rack and climbed up, still brooding.  It seemed to him that for the past six weeks his life had been alternating between limbo and hell.  In limbo waiting for word regarding McQueen, waiting to hear from Kylen, waiting for the pain of defeat and loss to go away.  The arrival of his new 'teammates' had been the hell part.  Much as he would have liked to accept them, they were a constant reminder that the Corps wasn't in any hurry to find out the fate of Shane and Vanessa.  A fate which in a chicken-shit kind of way he wasn't in a hurry to learn anymore, either.

 _I used to be braver than this,_ he thought, a little wistfully, remembering the day he had stolen an SA-43 and gone to Tellus to find Kylen.  Then, everyone had been so sure that he was deluding himself but his belief, his **faith** , had been absolute.  That had given him that strength and the courage to go to Tellus and prove everyone wrong.

But somewhere between Tellus and now his courage had abandoned him.  Maybe it was losing his younger brother Neil, something he had been helpless to prevent though he had only been a few feet away.  Or perhaps it was losing Paul while he was still reeling from the shock of seeing Shane and Vanessa's plane go down.   Maybe it was that he already carried such a burden of guilt over Shane and Vanessa, part of him acknowledging that maybe Hawkes had been right when he had accused him of choosing his girlfriend over their teammates.  Whatever it was, he now felt powerless and paralyzed, and even the slightest bit fatalistic. Hawkes was stubbornly sticking to the belief that Shane and Vanessa were still on 2063Y, slightly scuffed, but whole, waiting for rescue.  He was trying to believe that, too.  He just wasn't quite prepared to risk that belief by going after them himself.  Which brought him back to limbo.

 _They should have let us look when we wanted,_ he thought again, angrily. _We still had a chance then._

He shook that last thought away, feeling slightly traitorous.  Shane and Vanessa were still alive.  He had to believe that, **had** to.  That was the only thing that was keeping him and Hawkes sane.

Now that he thought about it, Hawkes hadn't mentioned Shane, Vanessa or the Colonel in quite some time either.  Nathan wondered if Cooper, too, was starting to lose faith, or was just afraid  to bring the subject of their friends up.  He sighed.  He wasn't even brave enough to be the one to talk to Hawkes about them.  It felt like everything was slipping out of his hands, one by one.  His friends, his family, his life.  Even his sanity.

He wanted out.  He wanted to go home.  He wanted to wake up and find that none of it the Chigs, losing Neil, the whole goddamn war had been real.

Nathan snapped out of his introspection as the hatch of the barracks opened and the rest of his 'team' filed noisily in.

"Your barrel rolls need work," Captain Morgan Tyler was telling Lt. Jordan Rain.   "You're not coming out of them with your nose flat and they're not as tight as they could be."

"Are you kidding?' interrupted a grinning Lt. Sarah Cullen as she flopped down on her own rack.  "We were hot!   The WildCards -- 14, Alien Scum nothing.  And presenting  our MVP and consistent top scorer," she announced grandly.  "First Lieutenant Jordan Rain!  Six fighters, sports-fans, all by his lonesome."

Rain just smiled and along with Tyler went straight to their lockers for their shower kits.

"You know, Cullen," commented Tyler, dryly, as she started to remove her flightsuit. "If you paid more attention to actually engaging the enemy instead of just cheerleading you could have gotten more than that one plane."

As ambivalent as Nathan's feelings may have been for Rain and Cullen, there was no question about what he thought of Tyler.  The woman was pure unadulterated bad news.  She was everything that Shane wasn't cold, nasty, manipulative, power-mad and certifiably psychotic.  He had always thought of himself as a fairly open-minded and tolerant person, but as far as Tyler went…  he'd rather trust a cobra not to strike.

"What for?" dismissed Sarah cheerfully.  "You guys had it covered."

"I remember West being in a tight spot once or twice," Tyler pointed out. "And I didn't see you giving him a hand."

Nathan paid no heed to the fact that he was now the topic of conversation and shifted his attention to Cooper, who had sat down on one of the utility tables and was now busy unlacing his boots.  For some still unknown reason Hawkes was handling Tyler's presence better than he was.  A surprise, considering how the InVitro felt about Shane.  He wasn't even complaining that much about their new Captain anymore, though he had borne the brunt of the woman's snide remarks and vicious attacks.  Lately, Hawkes had been tight-lipped about the subject of Tyler -- reticent, even, and he had taken to watching her with what Nathan could only describe as dark fascination. Nathan hoped that his friend wasn't secretly planning the woman's sudden and violent death.

Though, of course, if he was, Nathan couldn't blame him.

"Oh, pooh," said Cullen.  "He was just playing with them.  He was bored." She threw him a sideways glance.  "Weren't you, Nathan?"

Reluctant to be brought into the conversation, Nathan only shrugged carelessly.

Tyler halted in mid-zip and Nathan realized that he'd managed to make their new leader angry.  **Again**.

"Is that true, West?"  she asked, her voice dangerously low.  "This war not exciting enough for you?"

Nathan shook his head.     "No, Captain.  It's just that…"

"What?" she prodded, still lowly.

He doubted she'd understand, that any of them would.  The four of them were warriors, born and bred.  All they knew was fighting.  "Well, it seems that lately all we're doing is reacting.  They attack us, we respond, they retaliate, we punch back."  He  shrugged again.  "We're like…  I don't know feuding factions in one of those old soap operas --  we've been fighting so long we've lost sight of everything else.  I don't even know what we're doing anymore.  And I'm starting to wonder if…"

"If?"

"If any of this still makes sense."

Tyler stared at Nathan, her face unreadable.  By now he knew that that wasn't a good sign.

"So what do you want to do, Lieutenant?" she finally inquired, softly, silkily.  "Surrender?  Give up everything we're fighting for?  Forget everything we've sacrificed?"

"No," Nathan protested.  "I just--."

"This isn't a game, Lieutenant,"  she cut in, her eyes flashing furiously. "We don't get to go home when it gets dark and play again tomorrow.  No one's gonna call a timeout.  Our dead, those hundreds of thousands of dead bodies your friends and mine they aren't gonna stand up  ever again."

Rain placed a placating hand on Tyler's shoulder.  "He didn't mean it, Captain," the tall Cherokee said quietly.  "He's just tired."  Like Cullen he looked to Nathan for confirmation.

Morgan shrugged off Rain's hand.  "He better not have," she said coldly. "And you," she continued, turning to Cullen.  "I don't care if West had those planes dizzier than white mice drunk on fermented fruit.  In this squadron, we back each other up, is that clear?"

"Yes, Captain," Cullen answered, chastened.

Nathan had to breathe a silent sigh of relief as Tyler turned away and went back to her locker to pull a sweatshirt over her tank-top.  Maybe for once Tyler would let something drop.

No such luck.

"Goddamn, I hate this squadron," Tyler muttered suddenly, fiercely, slamming the door of her locker vehemently.  Her murderous glare encompassed them all.  "Goddamn you people," she spat and stalked savagely out the barracks door.

"Damn," cursed Cullen, sending West an apologetic glance. "Sorry, Nathan.  I wasn't thinking." She turned to Rain and softly made a suggestion.  "Maybe you should go after her -- save some poor Private from getting run over…"

"No," Rain shook his head,  "she needs time to cool off."  He looked at the West and Hawkes solemnly.  "She didn't mean it, either."

"Yeah, she just adores us." Nathan's retort was sardonic, focusing on Tyler' s outburst rather than his guilt.  "Fortunately, she makes it _real_ easy to return the favor."

* * *

Mission briefings were always solemn occasions but this one seemed particularly on edge.  West was feeling especially sensitive to the negative vibrations in the air.  The last blow-up hadn't been relegated to history. Tyler was maintaining her icy disdain, and Cullen was uncharacteristically somber, as if afraid that something she might say would spark another argument. Even Hawkes was still acting awkward towards him.

After Tyler had stormed out of their quarters, Hawkes had turned to him, his tone accusing. "I can't believe you said that."

"What," he had retorted defensively.  "You're on her side now?"

"You didn't mean it, right?" Hawkes had pressed

Nathan could only shrug.

Hawkes had looked stricken.  "You can't mean that, Nate," he repeated. "What about the Colonel?  Paul?  Shane and Vanessa?"

"That's just it, Coop," he answered, jumping at the chance to explain.  "It's just not the same without them.   This 58th it's just not us."  He had thrown Rain and Cullen an apologetic glance before continuing. "And being here just makes everything harder, you know?  I don't think we can do this without them."

"Don't say that!"  Hawkes had interrupted wildly.  "They're coming back!" Then Cooper had fallen silent and bitten his lip, as if realizing how unsteady he had sounded.  Unsteady and unsure.

That was a thread Nathan wasn't prepared to follow.  Instead, he tried to make Coop understand how hard it was for him, how tired he was.  "We've done our part I'm thinking it might be time to quit this war and let someone else handle it."

Hawkes had backed away, confusion evident on his face.  "You'd leave me?" he whispered hoarsely.

Nathan had been taken aback by the hurt Cooper's voice.  "No, Coop," he had tried to protest.  "I was thinking maybe we'd leave together," he had added lamely.

Hawkes had just emphatically shaken his head.  "I ain't leaving.  **Ever**."

Cooper had sounded very young, childish even, and Nathan had reacted impatiently to the need in his friend's voice. "Come on, Coop," he had snapped angrily.  "Why stay?  What's here?"

"My life," Hawkes had answered, his voice thick.  "I ain't like you.  I ain't got nothing else."

Stunned, Nathan could only watch silently as Hawkes turned away and left the room.

Rain had shaken his head disapprovingly.  "Good going, West," he had drawled sarcastically.  Rain didn't often get angry so it was especially noteworthy when he did.  "That's **really** what Hawkes needed to hear right now. That the only friend he thinks he has left is leaving him, too."

"Stay out of this," Nathan had warned Rain.  "This is between me and Coop."

"That's the problem," Cullen had interjected, also angrily.  "It's **not** just you and Hawkes here.  The 58th includes **us** now, and we're not going anywhere.  We're doing our best but you have to give us a chance."

 _A chance,_ Nathan had thought then.  _Was that really all it took?_

"I know it's not the best situation in the world," Rain had continued, "but I really suggest you deal with it.  This prima donna act isn't doing anybody any good.  Tyler's right.  You'll only get yourself, or **us** killed."

"Tyler," Nathan had returned nastily.  "You two think she's so hot, but she's not.   She has no idea what it takes to be a leader.  Shane ---."

"Isn't here," Rain had interrupted coldly.  "We've heard all the stories and we're suitably impressed, **but she's not here**.  Morgan is our Captain, can't you understand that?"    Rain had turned away in disgust, heading for the door with his shower kit.   He had turned back at the last second, glaring at Nathan.  "You know what's so funny about all of this?" he had asked acidly.  "Vansen is the one who crashed on that planet.  She's the one who's missing.  But you're acting as if **she's** going to burst in here any moment and rescue **you**."

* * *

"Gethen,"  announced Ross, bringing Nathan back to the present.  "Those who are fans of 20th Century literature might recognize the reference to the classic LeGuin novel."

"I presume that means it's an ice planet, like the planet it was named for," commented Jordan.

"It's not so much an ice planet, as much it's winter 70 percent of its year," explained the Commodore.  "Intelligence has uncovered a Chig base hidden on the planet, one that functions mainly as a refueling and holdover station for troops."

"Refueling?" questioned Nathan.  "That Chig bomber we were able to study showed that the Chig ships power source was practically inexhaustible."

"And what about the Sewell fuel?" added Cullen.

"Apparently, the late Mr. Sewell was right," answered the Commodore.  The fuel is new technology to the enemy as well as to us.  So far we haven't engaged any other ships using it.  As for the regular ships, they are admittedly amazingly fuel-efficient, but that doesn't mean their fuel reserves are inexhaustible. Sooner or later they need to refuel -- it's as simple as that."  He gestured towards the star chart behind him.  "And the base on Gethen is the only facility of this type in eighteen  light years."

"So we take out the Gethen base, we own this system." Tyler smiled in anticipation.

"I wouldn't exactly put it that way, Captain Tyler," responded Ross, 'but yes, we destroy this base, we hopefully take this system out of the equation."

"But sir, the  Chigs can always build another base," Rain pointed out.

"Yes, they could," agreed Ross, "but it would take months."

"And they probably won't want to if they know we can always get to it," added Cullen.

"It gives us an advantage, however slight," stated Ross. "And that's how wars are won.  Which brings us to your mission."   He brought up a series of photos on the holoscreen.  "The base is logically well protected.   Our bombers would never get within range."

"So we're bombing them from the ground?" asked Hawkes.

"Not exactly," answered Ross.  "Though the base has air and ground forces protecting it, Intel shows that they have no anti-ballistic capacity.  So, our forces will engage the enemy here," he pointed to a spot on the star chart, "hopefully luring most of their air forces away. Meanwhile we'll be utilizing long-range smart missiles, deployed from the **USS Michigan** , from this position,"   he pointed to another spot at the star chart.  "About three quarters of an  astronomical unit away from the planet."

"Hey, Rain, that's where your old unit is stationed, isn't it?" commented Hawkes.   "The 71st?"

Rain didn't answer.  "And where will the 58th be, Commodore?" he asked instead.

"We'll be on Gethen," answered Tyler coolly.  "Lacing the target."

* * *

"I can't believe that the Chigs would actually want a planet like this," commented Cullen as she fought the wind and the snow.  "It's nasty."

"I think it's pretty," commented Rain, looking down the side of the mountain they were climbing. "Sort of like home. It'd make a great ski resort. Very Christmas-sy. Besides,  aren't you the girl who actually _liked_ Styx?"

"Hey, Styx had trees with leaves," argued Cullen good-naturedly.  "Styx had birds.  Styx had…"

"Don't you two ever keep quiet?" asked Tyler. "Watch where you're going, West, I don't want you falling off this mountain and messing up my schedule."

"I don't see why we couldn't have dropped at the top of the mountain instead of parachuting down to the foot of it and **then** climbing up," complained Hawkes.  "In fact, why do we have to climb this rock at all?"

"Because we need to target the center of the base from at least a mile away and the only way to do that is to get elevated," answered Tyler shortly. "I'm sorry, Hawkes, next time you don't listen to a briefing tell me and I' ll send you a memo," she added sarcastically.

"The winds at the top of this mountain can get up to 500 mph," added Cullen. "If we had tried to 'chute down we could have been battered at the side of it. You should be thankful that we found this path. At least we don't have to grapple up."

"Actually, I think it's a frozen stream bed," interjected Rain.  "It's the path the water will take down the river during the spring thaw."

"I thought this was an ice planet?" asked Cullen.

"It is," answered Tyler.  "But it has its seasons just the same.  That's one thing you should look out for, by the way, underground rivers, and the like. Be careful where you step. Not everything that looks solid is."

"And keep an eye out for sudden storms," Rain added. "In this temperature, we could freeze to death in minutes."

Cullen grinned.  "Good thing I wore my long underwear," she commented, tongue-in-cheek.  Actually, she was wearing two sets of thermal underwear. They all were.  Plus  a minimum of two shirts, three pairs of socks, two pairs of gloves and two ski caps each in addition to  their winter combat ensembles.

"Just keep moving, and save your breath," instructed Tyler.  "And be thankful we don't have to climb all the way up to the top.  Rain, how far to that ledge?"

"About two hundred feet straight up, Captain," answered Rain.

"And how much time do we have?"

"We have 155 mikes till the drop, Captain," answered Rain after consulting his timepiece.   "Plenty of time."

* * *

"You're doing better," observed Rain under his breath as the rest went on ahead.

"Excuse me?" Tyler asked irritably.

"You explained the reason behind your orders instead of just ending with the 'do as I say and deal with it' speech," he clarified.  "I think it shows progress."

She shot him an even more irritated glance.  "I don't believe in explaining myself, Lieutenant," she stated shortly.

"Come on, Captain," Jordan protested, lightly.  "You can't just expect them to swallow everything, do you?  They have the right to ask a few questions."

"Stopping to ask questions could get you killed, Lieutenant," she answered. "You know that as well as I do.  Obey first, ask questions later, that's how it's supposed to be."

"Well, even you ask questions, don't you?" he asked quietly.  "Isn't that what happened at Gilead?"

She stopped, the question taking her by surprise.  _Oh, God,_ she thought with a  pang.  _Gilead._   She tried to ignore the sudden rush of memories, both precious and unwanted.  Did people really still remember Gilead?  It had been so long ago…  In another life.

"What do you know about Gilead?" she asked, glaring at him suspiciously.

"I was at the PX a few days ago," he explained. "This Navy lieutenant comes up to me and asks what it's like working with the 'heroine of Gilead.' Naturally, I looked it up." He nodded approvingly.  "You did good work. Saved a lot of people."

"The **'Wings** saved a lot of people," she corrected coldly.  "We were a team.  Something this squadron wouldn't know anything about."

"But the 'Wings had been together for more than a year by then," he pointed out.  "We've been together barely a month. You have to give us time to get to know one another."

Actually, the 'Wings had only been together eleven months, Tyler remembered. And Caitlin and Simon had only been with them for a few weeks.  She could still hear Caitlin complaining that they hadn't left her any good handles. The 'baby' had spent her first week trying out different nicknames ignoring her colleagues who teased her good-naturedly by calling her things like 'Gnat' and 'Tick' because she had not only been the youngest, she had been the smallest before finally deciding on the handle 'Cygnet.'

"'Black Trumpeter Swan' is a little too long for a handle," the young New Yorker had grinned then.

 _Better times,_ thought Morgan, allowing herself a moment of mourning that never registered on her face.  Instead she turned to Rain with an air of exaggerated patience. "Lemme explain this to you again, Lieutenant.  We're at war.  We don't have time to throw soirees and mixers."

He returned her look calmly. "I'm just saying you can't expect them to automatically trust you just because you're in command."

"And I say they don't have to trust me," she responded.  "They just have to obey orders."

"And did you?" he challenged.   Just obey orders, I mean.  On Gilead?"

She was careful to keep her surprise hidden this time.  _Damn,_ she thought. _How the hell did he know about that?_   As far as she knew, the exact details of the Gilead mission were still classified and compartmentalized. That had been the only thing that had saved their collective asses from a court martial.

"If you had followed MacLaughlin blindly then," Rain continued relentlessly, "those people could have died.  You questioned then, and when things didn't add up you made a decision and did the right thing.  At the risk of your careers, not to mention your lives."

"That has nothing to do with now," she stated icily.  "MacLaughlin was not only stupid, he was insane," she added.  "This isn't Gilead. I'm not MacLaughlin."

"They don't know that yet, do they?" he asked quietly.

 _Enough,_ she thought fiercely, slamming that part of her mind shut.  She'd revealed too much already.  She had to stop thinking about Gilead.  About the 'Wings.  About anything that meant anything.

With every ounce of her self-discipline she forced herself to speak calmly and without emotion.  "I thought my instructions were clear about staying out of my business, Lieutenant."

"You said stay out of your head," he returned, smiling slightly.  "You never said anything about the Corps Command database."

"Maybe you just have a death wish you don't know about," she informed him. She put up her hand and stilled his next words.  "Enough, Lieutenant.  This conversation is over."  She nodded towards the rest of the 58th who were steadily moving farther and farther away.  "Let's pick up the pace before we lose those three."

"Don't worry," Rain answered gently.  "We won't."

* * *

"Hoo-rah!" the shouts of victory were lost in the series of explosions that followed almost immediately.  From their vantage point the WildCards could clearly see that the missiles from the **Michigan** had hit the target dead center.  What was just a few moments ago a cloister of metal structures lay in shambles, ravaged by fire.

Morgan watched silently for a few moments before she gave the order to pack up the equipment.  "Rain, you, Cullen and West take the equipment and head to the extraction point.  Hawkes and I will pop down to that base for a while and see if our guys missed anything."

"Aww," said Cullen, disappointment in her voice.  "It's not often we get to watch fireworks like this.  Usually we're in the middle of it and can't enjoy the view."

"You know, Sarah," began Rain with a slight smile.  "Studies during the 20th Century showed that most sex offenders were pyromaniacs as well."

"Hmm," answered Sarah, returning Rain's grin.  "Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Captain," interjected West, "I think we should stay together."

"Here we go," Tyler muttered. "Is this, like, an automatic reaction with you, Lieutenant West?  Is your prime directive to disagree with everything I say, or do you actually have a good reason this time?"

"I just think we should stay together," West repeated stubbornly.  "We don't know what you could run into our there."

Tyler sighed impatiently.  "Well, as much as I appreciate this sudden concern and team devotion," she answered sarcastically, "there's a job to be done."  She motioned to Hawkes, who had already strapped on his pack.  "Let' s move, Lieutenant."

* * *

Morgan and Cooper trudged through the snow, operating mainly on auto-pilot. The biting wind had come out of nowhere, and with it, a thick curtain of snowfall.   They continued on, putting one foot in front of another, relying on their instincts and near-frozen compasses to point them in the right direction.

"We should turn back," Hawkes shouted to Tyler over the wind.  "This is turning into a real storm."

"The base is nearer," returned Tyler. "We can take shelter there and wait this out.  We'll radio the others from there and advise them of the situation.  Stay near me.  We can **not** be separated."

Neither of them saw the ravine till it was too late.  It hadn't been on any of the Intel maps and from their elevated vantage point all signs of the precipice had disappeared against the uniformly white background of the planet.  Tyler was just a  few steps ahead of Hawkes when it happened.  With no warning, the ground beneath her feet gave way.

"Tyler!" screamed Hawkes as he saw her go down.

At the last microsecond she managed to grab hold of the edge and hang on.

Hawkes wasn't exactly sure what had happened, just that Tyler had disappeared from sight.  "Tyler!" he shouted again.

"I'm fine!" she shouted back, trying to find a foothold on the slippery side of the cliff.  "Just give me a chance to catch my breath."

He was aghast when he made out her gloves against the slightly less brilliant white of the ground.  "Hang on, Captain," he said, taking a step towards her.  "I'm coming after you."

"No!" she shouted.  "Stay back!"

Again, the warning came too late.  Hawkes had already come too close.  The ledge collapsed under his weight, and he went down in a flurry of arms and legs, right on top of Tyler.

 

* * *

  


 _"There are strange things done 'neath the midnight sun_  
 _By the men who moil for gold;_  
 _The Arctic trails have their secret tales_  
 _That would make your blood run cold;_  
 _The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,_  
 _But the queerest they ever did see_  
 _Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge_  
 _When I cremated Sam McGee."_

  


 _  
_

Rain ended the poem with a flourish as Cullen giggled.  He cocked an eyebrow in her direction.  "That's not an appropriate response, Sarah," he said dryly.

"Sorry," she grinned unrepentantly.  "You just looked so, um, **dramatic**. It was actually quite impressive."

He grinned back.  "That's my patented 'mystic-Native-American' look."

"Do you guys really have to do this?" Nathan gritted. He turned away from the opening of their makeshift camp to glare at the two.

"Hey, you sounded just like Morgan just now," Cullen teased.  "Though she can glower a lot better."

"Pardon the pun, Nathan," Rain interjected,  "but why don't you chill out? It's minus two hours till extraction.  We have to pass the time **somehow**."

"Why don't you try Tyler and Hawkes on the radio again?" urged Nathan.

"They just radioed in five mikes ago," Cullen reminded him.  "They should be nearing the base by now Tyler said radio discipline till they check back."

"I still say we should have with them," muttered West.  "Come on, guys, let's go after them."

"No," said Rain.  "Tyler's orders are clear.  We stay here."

Nathan glared at Rain for a moment longer and then went back to watching the path for signs of Hawkes and Tyler.

"So," Cullen ventured after a few moments of silence.  "Anybody wanna sing Christmas carols?"

* * *

Fortunately, the side of the chasm  turned into a slope of sorts about thirty feet down.  Morgan slid, more than fell, the last hundred of so feet, landing at the bottom with a bone-jarring thud.

 _Ouch,_ she thought, momentarily unable to voice the feeling as she struggled to catch her breath.  She tried to open her eyes and had to shut them again against the glare of the snow.  She replaced the visor that had been knocked off her eyes and tried again.

The icy sub-zero ground temperature demanded that she move, and she did, slowly, reluctantly, trying to gauge if she had broken any bones.  She was grateful that she had so many layers of clothing on the padding had provided more than protection from the cold.   Her clothes were torn in several places, and she felt bruised all over, but she seemed whole.  Which was more than Hawkes would be able to say once she got ahold of him, she thought.

She struggled to her feet and looked around for Hawkes, experiencing a moment of panic when she didn't immediately find him.  "Hawkes!  Hawkes, where are you?"  Damn the white of their clothing if he was knocked out they would make it that much harder to find him.  "Hawkes!  Goddammit, answer me!"

"Here!"

She turned towards the voice to see him plodding towards her.  He had landed a few dozen meters beyond her own position, his greater weight no doubt propelling him further.  She saw him stagger and go down, and she ran to his position, falling on her knees beside him.

"What's wrong?" she demanded.  "Are you hurt?"  She examined the shivering form and cursed as she realized that the lower part of his body, from mid-chest to this feet was   encrusted with ice.  The clearing they had fallen into wasn't a field after all, but a lake, and one that was obviously not frozen all the way to the bottom.

"I went through the ice," Hawkes tried to explain, signs of shock evident in his eyes.

She cursed again and grabbed his arm, using all of his strength to help him stand up.  "We can't stay here," she announced.  "We have to find shelter, **fast**."  She looked around her the lake stretched as far as she could see.  Behind her was the rock face of the ledge.  At least it could protect **some** protection from the wind and the snow, she thought.  Anything was better than being out in the open.  Hawkes swayed and she grabbed his arm tighter, keeping him upright.

"Let's go," she ordered, and led him back towards the mountain.

* * *

"Shit," said Rain, suddenly.  "Our radio's out."

"What?" Nathan demanded. "What do you mean our radio's out?"

"Which word didn't you understand?" asked Rain, dryly, as he pried open the radio case ad inspected the inside.  "I think the circuit board fried out."

"How did that happen?"

"What, you think technology exists to make life easier?" Cullen asked with a wry grin.  "We can make ships that go faster than light, Nathan, but they still can't make a radio that works in bad weather."

"SO what do we do now?" Nathan asked.

"What **can** we do?' returned Rain.  "We sit tight, rendezvous with Hawkes and Tyler, and wait for our ride home."

* * *

She dragged Hawkes on, pushing, pulling, nagging him to keep moving.

It felt like they'd been walking forever.  Through ice, wind and snow, hating the cold as she'd ever hated anything else.  _I'm from Florida, goddammit,_ she complained silently.  _I wasn't made to ever be this cold._

She hoped Rain and the others were doing better than she and Hawkes were. The one casualty of their fall had been the radio.  Her call for help had met with no response, possibly due to the huge dent now marking its center. There had been no time to actually check the hardware.  Hawkes was faltering, fast.   They had to find shelter.  Out of the snow, away from the wind.

He really should have known better, she thought.  Going after her had been a stupid move. If the ledge couldn't hold her, it certainly couldn't hold him. But she supposed he had commendable, though faulty,  instincts.  At least he hadn't yelled 'Hoo-rah!' and applauded as she fell.

But he really should have known better.

Now the two of them were lost in the middle of a snow storm on an ice planet.  And if that wasn't complicated enough, he had to choose a lake to fall in.  Smart.  Very smart.

Through the fiercely falling snow she spotted an opening, a slight indentation on the side of the cliff and angled them towards it.  She doubted it was more than a small hole on the hillside, but some shelter was better than nothing.

"Almost there," she told Hawkes, her worry increasing when he didn't answer.

Their luck was holding after all.  It **was** a cave.  The opening was small, barely three feet in diameter, but a quick peek with her flashlight revealed that it got bigger a few feet in --  big enough to hold both of them, and deep enough to provide shelter from the wind.  She had Hawkes crawl through the mouth of the cave first, pushing and prodding to keep him moving.

Hawkes collapsed, losing consciousness, just as they came to a cavern that was about five feet high and ten feet across.  Still on her knees beside him, she  quickly and dispassionately  stripped him of his clothes.  That plunge into the icy water had been bad enough, but now the water had frozen and plastered the clothes to his skin, further advancing  the fall of his body temperature.  There wasn't time to check for frostbite or wounds.  What was important now was to raise his body temperature to prevent hypothermia.

She winced as she worked on the ski masks and thermal underwear, hoping she wasn't taking off his skin in the process, but she couldn't take the time to be more careful.  Every second counted.  After she had stripped him completely, she took a thermal  blanket from her pack and briskly rubbed his entire body, trying to get rid of the liquid, generate some heat and restore his blood circulation.  When she was done she threw another two dry thermal blankets to the ground.  Grunting with exertion, she shifted his dead weight onto the blankets and then wrapped the ends tightly around him.

Now working double time she took the wet thermal blanket and did her best to cover as much of the opening of the cave as she could, tacking it on to the porous stone with the attached pins.  Hopefully that would be enough to keep the main force of the wind from entering and maybe block out some of the cold, too.

She dug into Hawkes pack next, thanking God that it was waterproof and that it hadn't been submerged into the water he had fallen in.  She was annoyed to find only one thermal blanket she herself had had the three.  Maybe Hawkes was more used to the cold, she conceded.  Or maybe it was just typical male machismo.  She took that blanket and wrapped it around him, too, this time covering his head for added heat and protection.

She took a moment to glance at her timepiece.   She wondered if she dared to leave Hawkes while she went for help.  No, it was twenty mikes to extraction she'd never make it.  Best they could hope for is that Rain and the rest would come looking when the time came and she and Hawkes didn't appear.  But considering the building storm outside, she didn't count on a speedy rescue.  Ross would know better than to send planes out in all that white.

She didn't worry about the others finding them.  Rain already had instructions on what to do in a  situation like this.  In the event that they got separated and one or more teams missed extraction, extraction would be attempted again the next day same time, same place, -- pending other instructions.  The practice had been Standard Operating Procedure with the 'Wings and had served them well.  That way, there was always a plan and a rendezvous point, even if there was no way to communicate with each other.

She and Hawkes just had to survive the next twenty-four hours and they'd be home free.

Six hours till sundown.  She remembered that, at least, though she couldn't recall just how long the nights were supposed to last on Gethen.  The temperature would drop even further, she thought.  She had to stabilize Hawkes' condition by then.  She had to find a way to raise the temperature of the cave or he'd never survive the night.

She dug into her pack once more and brought out two flares.  She snapped one in half and threw the suddenly blazing stick to the other side of the cave. Fortunately, this was a flare designed for night-use light and heat with minimal smoke.  The designers  hadn't been able to completely get rid of the flare's accompanying smoke,  but it would be bearable, especially since she hadn't been successful in completely blocking out the wind, either. Hopefully,   the heat this flare generated would be enough to raise the temperature inside the cave for the next few hours.  As soon as the storm abated a little, she'd go out and  look for some sort of fuel for a fire.

She saved the other flare for later, just in case, along with two other flares designed for daytime use --  colored smoke being more effective against the white background of snow than mere light.

She turned back to Cooper and laid the back of her hand against his temple, noting with dismay that his temperature seemed to be falling further.  And she realized, with even greater dismay, that there was only one thing left to do.

Even in the twenty-first century, shared body heat was still the best way to combat hypothermia.

Grimly, she bent to take off her boots, her uniform, the thermal underwear, leaving only her regular underwear.  Then she joined him on the cave floor, rearranging the blankets to cover them both.  She covered everything, including their heads, hoping they wouldn't smother.  She had no choice, too much of their body head could be lost if their heads were left unprotected. Besides, it helped to further filter out the smoke from the flare. Wouldn't it just be a kick if to survive hypothermia only to die from carbon monoxide poisoning?

She shivered as the coldness of his body finally registered.  She was cold herself, but he was practically frozen.  Maybe it was the extra layer of fat that females were cursed with, she thought idly, that was keeping her that much warmer.  She rubbed her hands over his arms and shoulders, slid her feet and legs against his, trying to stroke away the cold, and massage the blood through his veins.  She even warmed his face with hers for good measure, rubbing her cheeks against his cold ones.

At least he had tons of muscles, she thought.  Muscles generated heat.

He started to shiver, a good sign, and she hoped that his color was beginning to look better, -- she couldn't tell from within the confines of the cloth.     She held him more tightly, trying to prevent him from hurting himself as his shivers intensified, wracking his body.     Unconscious, he turned his body towards her, trying to get closer to the source of the warmth, wrapping his own arms around her, and pulling her body over his like a blanket.

Morgan fought down the instinct to struggle and remained still.  When he had settled a bit she started  rubbing his arms in a soothing motion and murmuring comforting words in his ear.  After a few minutes his tense muscles relaxed and he began to breathe more easily.  She breathed a sigh of relief of her own as she realized that his shivers were becoming less intense.    She hoped he hadn't hit his head when he had fallen into the river, a concussion would seriously complicate their situation.  But by the sound of his breathing he seemed to be resting more easily so she allowed herself to relax, fractionally.

At least he was warm now.

So was she.  It was strange now that his temperature was climbing she was actually starting to feel comfortable.  Cozy, even.  Cocooned.

As soon as his temperature stabilized, she thought, she'd get up.  She just didn't want to risk leaving him too soon and undoing all her work.  Just a few minutes more.

Suddenly she felt exhausted.  She continued to stroke his back but the rhythm, as well as that of his breathing, as well as the sound of his heart beating beneath her ear, began to make her feel drowsy.

She tried to shift, but he was holding her too securely.  She sighed, and somehow, the sigh turned into a yawn.

Two minutes later she was asleep.

* * *

"It's ten minutes to extraction," announced West, his worry well on its way to developing  into full-fledged hysteria.  "Where **are** they?"

"Settle down, West," instructed Rain, trying to stamp down his own apprehension.  "Tyler and Hawkes know the time of extraction.  They'll be here."  He looked out of the makeshift camp, noting that the weather seemed to be worsening, but not so bad that Hawkes and Tyler would have real problems with it.  A storm was building up, but they had time to spare.  If Hawkes and Tyler made it back in time they'd be off planet before it **really** hit.

"They're in trouble," Nathan protested.  "I'm going to look for them."

"No," Rain snapped impatiently.  "For the last time, **no**.  Think it through, Nathan.  **We're** the ones with the dead radio.  We have no means to communicate either with Tyler or the **Saratoga**.  Tyler knows we're here. The Commodore knows we're here.  We're **staying** here."

"They could be trying to reach us," objected Nathan.  "Without the radio we have no way of knowing."

"If they're in trouble and couldn't reach us then she'd call the **'Toga** ," Cullen pointed out.  "In either case, Rain's right.  We have no choice but to stay here and wait."  She placed a comforting on Nathan's shoulder.  "I'm sure they're on their way, Nathan."

* * *

Cooper awoke first, reacting with panic to the darkness, his claustrophobia attacking in full force.  He was hot and he couldn't breathe something was wrapped tightly around him and something heavy pressing against his chest.

He groped carefully around him, his hands encountering cloth thick, soft, slightly damp.  Slowly, he dislodged the weight of it from around his head and blinked at his green-tinged surroundings.

 _Where the heck was he?_

He seemed to be in a  dugout of sorts, and the green haze seemed to be coming from a light source a few feet away.  His surroundings smelled damp, with just a hint of sulfur. It took a second more to conclude that he was in a cave, and that the light source a flare.

The weight on top of him moved slightly and he froze, his senses alert. When no further movement was forthcoming he slowly, cautiously lowered the cloth some more.

Masses of raven hair spilled out, followed by a familiar face, currently asleep.

 _Holy hell,_ he thought, blinking in confusion.

He was suddenly aware that beneath the blanket he was naked, and Tyler practically the same.  He could feel her body against his, her soft skin, the warm breath, the dark hair wrapped around them both.

Well, this was certainly an interesting development, he thought.  He was either hallucinating or he was hallucinating.

He took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of her.  No it was more than that.  It was her scent and his, together.  Her hair smelled like the shampoo that Corps provided everyone, chamomile and various herbs, which he himself used.  But her skin he'd know that scent anywhere.   Something deep inside him reacted, in ways he wasn't prepared to deal with at the moment.

He had never held a woman like this, not even an InVitro.  Not even Suzy during that ill-fated visit to the Bacchus.  Sure, they had done everything else at least according to Suzy but Suzy's rules had been clear:  no kissing, no lingering, nothing unnecessary. And afterwards she had rolled over to her side of the bed and stayed there.  He didn't even remember that much of it, he'd been so hopped-up from the green meanies that everything had been a blur.   **This** was astonishingly real.

Captain Morgan Tyler was lying asleep in his arms.  And it felt…  good.

 _Holy hell,_ he thought again, completely at a loss as to how to react or what to do.  In the end, he did the only thing he could think of, the only thing that made sense.

He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

* * *

"Any word, Sir?" Nathan asked an equally harried Commodore Ross.

"I'm afraid not, Lieutenant," answered the commander of the **USS Saratoga**.

It had seemed like a sound plan at the time.  When the APC had landed and Hawkes and Tyler still hadn't made an appearance, Rain had pronounced that they would get in and fly over the path the two had supposedly taken, find them, and pick them up.  Five mikes later the storm had hit them with a vengeance, lowering the pilot's visibility to zero, leaving them no choice but to return to the **'Toga** ,  against West's vehement protests.

"No Chigs sightings," Ross continued, "but none of Tyler and Hawkes either."

"Sir, I would presume that the Captain and Hawkes took shelter somewhere from the storm," stated Rain.  "Their radio could have fritzed out just as ours did."

"Let's hope so, Lieutenant," responded Ross.  "Right now it's just too dangerous to continue with this search.  We'll have to try again when the storm breaks."

"But, Sir --," protested Nathan.

"When the storm breaks, Lieutenant," repeated Ross.  "Both Tyler and Hawkes have had extreme conditions survival training.  We'll just have to hope that's enough."

* * *

Hawkes was just the slightest bit disappointed when he awoke for the second time and found himself alone.  Though the flare was dying out and the cave was steadily getting darker, he could see well enough that she wasn't there.

It was just as well, he supposed.  He wouldn't have known how to handle it anyway.  At least now he had a few minutes to pull himself together before he had to face her.  Right now he was at a definite disadvantage.  It had just occurred to him that Tyler had very likely saved his life and that placed him in a very awkward position.  The fact that he was lying naked on the floor of a dark cave didn't help any.

She returned then, brining with her a gust of cold wind and a sprinkling of snow.  She placed the  small armload of twigs and dead leaves she was carrying in the center of the cave, a few feet away from Hawkes, and then proceeded to remove her jacket and headgear, shaking the snow from the cloth and her hair.  Then she rummaged through her pack and brought out a large tin cup and waterproof matches.

"I have a laser torch in my pack," he volunteered tentatively. "In case you need it."

She didn't act startled to find him awake.  "I prefer matches," she answered, calmly.  "They're lighter and more dependable." She glanced at him, unperturbed. "Your clothes are still wet you're gonna have to wear that blanket a while longer."

"How much longer?" he asked, fretfully.

"At least until your clothes air dry," she replied.  "By the way, I'm gonna have to use the GEEQUED comic I found in your pack for kindling."

 _Oh, shoot,_ he thought.  He hadn't finished reading that particular issue yet.

She smiled wryly at his reluctant look.  "Don't worry, I'll get you another one."

"How long was I out?'  he questioned.

"Not long," she replied, "just a little over a couple of hours.  Must be that famous InVitro healing."

She gathered some rocks from around the cave and placed them in a circle around the twigs and leaves,   creating a makeshift hearth.  Hawkes winced as she took the comic and tore out its pages, crumpling  them into small balls and adding them to the pile.  She then  touched a lit match against the balled up pages, pleased that they caught fire immediately.  The leaves and twigs took a little longer, but soon she had a small fire blazing brightly. "There wasn't too much wood to find," she continued, "but I think we have enough here to heat up some water for coffee.  Maybe some MREs, if you're up to it."

He grimaced at the idea.  "No, thanks," he said.  "A couple of energy bars'd be more my speed.  Coffee sounds good, though."  He hesitated.  "I'd help, but…"  He glanced sheepishly at the blanket covering his body.

"Modesty isn't a valued trait in the Corps, Lieutenant," she retorted, dryly, "but don't worry about it. I have everything under control."

She always did, Hawkes thought, a little resentfully, watching her cut open a couple of their water ration bags and dump the ice into the tin cup she had placed on top of the fire.

"We could melt some snow for the coffee," she commented when she saw him watching her, "but I don't really think we should risk it."  Leaving the water to heat, she moved over to his side.  Hawkes almost jumped out of his skin when she gently laid the back of her hand on his forehead.  "You don't have a fever," she remarked idly.  "How do you feel?"

"Cold," he grinned.

"Aside from that, I mean," she chided, her answering smile almost lost in the shadows.  "Headache?  Broken bones?  Did you hit your head when we fell?"

"I don't think so."

"What about frostbite?"

He wriggled his fingers and toes experimentally.  "Nope," he answered.  He was surprised again when she took hold of his hand and checked for herself. "I'm fine," he insisted.  "Just cold."

She let go and went back to the fire to check on the water.  "Well, hopefully the coffee will help with that.  You really should eat more than energy bars, though.  You burned a lot of energy these last few hours.  You need to recharge."

"Maybe later."  He frowned worriedly, remembering the rest of their squadron.  "Do you think the others are okay?"

"They're safe and warm on the **'Toga** by now," she assured him calmly.

"I hope they didn't get lost like we did."  Hawkes wanted to bite back the words as soon as he had said them.  It was the perfect opportunity for her to point out that their getting lost was his fault entirely, first for falling on top of her, and then for falling into the lake.

"Rain grew up around mountains like these," she said,  "so that's not likely.  Don't worry about them.  Were the ones trapped in a snowstorm."

"The 'Cards worry about each other," he returned, defensively.  "Didn't the 114th?"

Her eyes flared and Hawkes could have kicked himself.   Tyler had it very clear that the subject of the BlackWings were off limits.  "We trusted each other to know what we were doing, and to do our jobs,"  she answered coldly.  
"So we didn't have to worry.  At least not unless we had good reason to." She removed a couple of sachets from her pack and ripped them open.  "Rain has instructions on what to do in a situation like this," she continued. "If he followed them, and I know he did, then I don't have to worry.  It's when people **don't** follow the rules that I have to."  She removed the tin cup from the fire,  stirred in the coffee and sweetener, and then handed it to him brusquely.  "Here."

"Thanks," he said, discomfited by her answer.   "The 'Cards aren't real good at following rules," he had to admit. "That's how we got our name."

The look she gave him was flat. "I know."

* * *

Nathan looked out the Observation Deck, the familiar feeling  of helplessness threatening to cut off his breathing.  It was happening all over again.  Hawkes was lost, in danger, and there was nothing he could do but wait.  Wait till it was too late.

"Come away from the window, Nathan," Cullen urged softly.  "The Commodore promised he'd let us know as soon as the storm broke.  Come back to the barracks and get some sleep while you can."

"I can't," said Nathan, stubbornly maintaining his vigil.

"We're all worried, Nathan," stated Rain, "but there's nothing we can do right now."

" **You** said they were fine," he reminded them testily.  " **You** said they'd be back in time for extraction.  We should have gone after them like I wanted."

"Then there'd be five of us missing, instead of just two, with the **Saratoga** having no idea where to find any of us," Rain replied, shaking his head exasperatedly.  "If you don't mind me saying so, West, for someone who's been acting so… shall we say **lukewarm** about everything, you seem to be heated up all of a sudden."

"My friend is missing," he snapped at the two.  "Can't you understand that? And he's missing with that… that…"

"Don't even say it, Nathan," Rain warned.    " **Our friends** are missing. Hawkes **and** Tyler." He took and angry step forward but Cullen's hand stopped him.  He sighed and addressed Nathan coldly.   "Believe it or not, the fact there's two of them down there is the only thing that makes this situation bearable."

Cullen nodded her head in agreement.  "Give them a little credit, Nathan. Tyler and Hawkes are survivors not people bent on suicide as you seem to be."

"Believe what you want of them personally," added Rain, "but those two are **Marines**. Captain **and** Lieutenant. Marines look out for each other.  You may hate Morgan but trust me, she would never let anything happen to Hawkes. And the same goes for Hawkes.  Trust them that much, will you?"

Nathan shook his head, angrily, helplessly.  "Hawkes is the only one I have left," he whispered harshly.  "I can't lose him, too."

Rain softened slightly at West's words.  "We're worried, too, Nathan, but we can not do anything stupid.  Right now the best help we can give them is to stay right here.  They can't worry about themselves if they have to worry about us."

* * *

In stark contrast to the howling of the wind outside, the interior of the cave was deathly quiet.  For once, Hawkes missed Cullen's cheerful chatter. It was bad enough being stuck inside  a small  dark cave, there should at least be some small talk to cut the tension, he thought.

He ventured a look at  his companion who was sitting cross-legged at the other side of the cave, scribbling on a small computer console. She looked busy.  And annoyed.

Unconsciously, he began humming a Pink Floyd song, tapping his hand against the ground in time to the rhythm.

"Settle down, Lieutenant," she ordered dryly, without looking up.   "This cave isn't big enough for that."

"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly.  "I kinda have a problem with small places."

"Claustrophobia is a common problem among InVitros," she said, matter-of-factly.  "Try not to think about it."

 _Easy for her to say,_ he thought as she continued with her scribbling.  
"What are you doing?"

"Getting a head-start on my report," she answered shortly.  "And I'd appreciate no more interruptions."

"You know," he said tentatively.  "You could at least talk to me."

"No, I don't," she contradicted.  "Entertaining bored wingmen isn't in my item description."

"But," he ventured with a small smile,  "if I actually die of boredom, how would you ever explain it to the Commodore?"

"I'd just tell him you started singing and I had to put you out of your misery," she told him flatly, though he could tell, somehow, that she was kidding.

He was heartened.  Maybe this situation wasn't as bad as he thought.  He nodded somberly, mimicking her expression. "That could actually happen, you know," he said. "Come on, talk to me.  Please?"

She sighed and conceded, saving the document and replacing the small console inside her pack.  "Fine," she told him.  "You go first."

"Me?"  Now that he had her attention he didn't know where to start. "Um… You got a family?"

"Husband and kids? No.  Parents and siblings, yes."

"Big family?"

"Huge," she said, giving a small smile at the thought of her family. "Two parents, four brothers, two sisters, two sister-in-laws, two nieces, a nephew, a dog, four cats, assorted horses,  and  a partridge in a  pear tree."  The last few words were said in a sing-song tone, but he  focused on one word in particular.

"Horses?" he asked, his eyes round with almost childish wonder.

"My Mom's a vet," she explained.  "She raises them on the side."

"And your Dad?"

"Dad runs a citrus nursery for the neighboring farms."

"Must be nice to live in a place that has trees," he commented wistfully. "Especially a place near the ocean."

"Very nice," she agreed.

"You miss it?" he asked

"A lot."

"I never had a family," he commented, longing unconsciously lacing his voice.

"You should be thankful," she answered without sympathy.  "Nothing screws up a person worse than a bad family and a lousy childhood."

He looked at her curiously.  "But… your family sounds wonderful."

"They are," she answered.  "I got lucky.  Trust me, that's not always the case."

He hesitated, wondering if it was a good idea to ask the question he had in mind. "Can I ask you a question?"

Her eyebrow lifted.  "And what have you been doing so far?"

"I meant a real question.  Personal."

"Ah," she said, nodding, mock-sagely.  "We've exhausted the icebreakers and have graduated to 'truth or dare."  I should warn you that not a lot of people are actually good at this game."

"So can I?"

"You can always ask, Lieutenant," she shrugged.  "Whether I answer is another thing entirely."

"What are you doing here?"

"Excuse me?" she asked, not understanding the question.

"If your home is so wonderful," he clarified, "what are you doing here?  Why aren't you back on Earth enjoying all of that?"

Her gaze narrowed.  "I'm here, Lieutenant," she answered deliberately, gesturing broadly around her,  "to make sure that none of **this** touches **them**."

Something in the steely tone of her voice caught at him.  Her voice was quiet but she sounded fierce, protective a leopardess willing  to kill and die defending her lair and her family.   Suddenly, he wondered just how far that circle extended.  A question popped into his head and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.  "Morgan, would you die for us?"

For a moment he saw her falter, startled by his question, a shadow appearing in her eyes.  Then she laughed and it disappeared, along with the oddly intent emotion that he hadn't understood.

"You really shouldn't play this game, Lieutenant," she said, still smiling in amusement.  "You're very bad at it."

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"'Would I die for you?'" she mocked.  "Good grief, Lieutenant, you don't even know the right question to ask."

* * *

"The storm doesn't seem to be dying down," Hawkes commented much later.  "I thought for sure it'd be over before sundown."

"It'll take a while longer," agreed Tyler.

It was the first sentence spoken in the cave for a while, Hawkes having given up the idea of having a decent conversation with Morgan. He had managed to amuse himself by taking out his own portable computer and playing some of the games built into it, but he had been forced to stop by the lack of light.

Hawkes shifted nervously as the cave grew steadily dimmer. In his imagination it seemed to be shrinking around them.   "The fire's dying down," pointed out, just in case she hadn't realized it.  "Maybe you should light that other flare," he suggested.

"We should save that," she answered.  "In case they mount a nighttime rescue."

"I thought you said Ross wouldn't chance it?"

"The Commodore wouldn't," she repeated.  "But just in case we don't want to waste their efforts.  We should be able to signal them somehow."

"So what do we do now?" he questioned.  "It's gonna get a lot colder soon."

She moved closer and repeated her earlier action of placing the back of her hand to his forehead.  Hawkes was ready for it this time and didn't flinch. He realized he sort of enjoyed having her hand there, and the hint of concern lining her features.

"Your temperature has stabilized," she stated, taking away her hand.  "We should be fine."  Then, to his surprise, she went on her knees and unzipped her jacket.

"What are you doing?" he asked uneasily as she shed the rest of her outer clothing with practiced efficiency, folding and laying them neatly on top of her pack.

"Getting comfortable," she answered calmly.  "It's going to be a long night."

With an aplomb Hawkes both admired and hated, Tyler moved back to where he was sitting and drew open the blankets that were still covering him.

"Lie down," she ordered, and when he did so, too befuddled to argue, she lay down next to him, her back against his front, and redrew the blankets over them both.

"Um, Captain…" he began, edging away slightly.

She followed, plastering her back against his skin.  "Stay where you are, Lieutenant," she commanded coolly.  "I'm not about to freeze just because you're shy.  Just close your eyes, pretend I'm someone else and go to sleep."

That should have been easy, he thought.  Since she had arrived that was all he'd been doing.  Every night for the last five weeks he'd closed his eyes and pretended it was someone else lying on the rack across his.  But he'd be lying if he didn't admit that that had been getting harder and harder with each passing day, and that right then and there, with her so near, the heat of her skin warming his, it was impossible.

He tried to get comfortable, but he didn't quite know what to do with his hands.  One served adequately as a pillow, but the other lay uneasily on his side, trying not to touch more of her than he was already.  His indecision was brought to a halt when she casually reached behind her, grabbed his free arm and placed it securely around her waist.

"Stop fidgeting and go to sleep," she ordered again.

He wondered if that was what she was doing, too.  She didn't seem uncomfortable, maybe  she had done this before.  Maybe  she was used to lying beside someone else, his arm wrapped around her waist. Was she thinking of someone else while she lay there, was she wishing he were someone else? Was that why she had been so quick to present her back because it was easier to pretend that way?  He didn't quite know what to think, or feel, about that possibility.

He wished he could talk to Nathan about it, but Nathan would _never_ understand.  He doubted anyone would.

He lay awake long after the darkness claimed the cave, just listening to the sound of her breathing, wondering why he all of a sudden felt so alone.

* * *

  
"Seventeenth, Thirtieth and Fifty-eighth Squadrons to launch bay seven immediately."  The announcement cut through the quiet of the 58th barracks. "Squadrons 17, 10 and 58 to Launch Bay Seven."

In minutes the members of the three squadrons arrived at the launch bay on each others' heels.

"Chig attack jets have been spotted 150 MSKs out," announced Ross grimly. "Headed straight for Gethen." <

"How many, Sir?" was Nathan's only question.

"Four squadrons," answered Ross.  "Maybe more."

Lt. Antonio, squadron leader of the 30th, just grinned.  "That's not gonna be a problem for the Wreckers, Sir."

"WildCards, you'll be joining the Wreckers on this intercept."  The Commodore turned to the 17th Squadron.  "Captain Georges, you have the coordinates of both the extraction point and the last recorded position of Captain Tyler and Lieutenant Hawkes.  The StingRays are  to escort the SAR team and assist in this rescue in any way possible."

"Aye, Sir," nodded Captain Georges.

"You have your orders," finished Ross.  "Dismissed."

Lt. Antonio turned to his team and to the WildCards.  "Let's go, men," he ordered.  "We got us some bugs to squash."

* * *

  
It was the cold that woke her, more than the absence of the sound of the wind or the light that was streaming through the gaps in the cloth covering the mouth of the cave.  Hawkes was nowhere to be found.  The clothing that had been laid out to dry on a nearby rock was gone as well.

 _Goddammit,_ she thought.  _How the hell had that happened?  She wasn't a sound sleeper, not  by a long shot.  Six years in the Corps had made sure of that.  That unscheduled nap the day before had been bad enough now Hawkes had managed to get up, get dressed and leave the cave, all without her waking.  She was slipping, dammit.  Not acceptable._

She hurriedly dressed and replaced everything in their two packs.  The two extra thermal blankets she placed in the bottom of Hawkes' pack she could always get more and the stupid tank was probably too stubborn to accept that he might need them again someday to get his own.

Hawkes returned just as she was finishing up.  "Well, Lieutenant?" she asked as he came in.  "Anything to report?"

"The storm seems to be over," he answered. "But I couldn't find any more wood."

"Won't be needing it,"  she told him.  "We still need to get out of this ravine and get back to the extraction point.  You up to it?"

"Do I have a choice?" he asked, dryly.

She got on her knees and strapped on her pack.  "I can go ahead and come back for your once I've found one," she answered coolly.  "Or throw you down a rope once I've reached the top.   The last thing I need is a repeat of yesterday's incident.  If you're not up to it then you're better off staying here."

"I can manage," he assured her grimly.

She looked at him carefully and then nodded.  "Alright, let's move out." She frowned suddenly as her ears picked up a  low humming.  "What the hell is that?" she asked rhetorically.

"Chig attack jets," Hawkes identified the sound anyway, hurriedly strapping on his own pack and palming his pistol.

"Shit!" cursed Tyler.  "Did you cover your tracks?" she demanded.

"Tyler, there's no way they can spot --."

"Did you cover your tracks?" she repeated with greater intensity.

He nodded.

"Alright then," she stated.  "We stay here.  Maybe it's just a patrol squadron sent to check out the base.  With luck they'll pass over us."  She palmed her own pistol and peered out of the cave.

"What if they don't?" asked Hawkes.

"Then we get to play in the snow, Lieutenant."

As they spoke, three Tri-Wings flew into their sky, pursued by three Hammerheads.  In the distance, far behind them, two more Hammerheads appeared, flanking an ISSAPC.

"That looks like our ride home," commented Hawkes.

"We need to find a way out of this ravine fast, Lieutenant," stated Tyler. "We can't risk that APC landing on that lake, and with the Chigs around I doubt our people can mount another rescue soon.  We're gonna have to grapple up."

She took off her pack and readied her climbing equipment, checking her ropes and hooks carefully but efficiently.  Hawkes did the same, and they waited till the Chig jets had flown past their position before moving.

More than his Corps training, it was his years as a construction worker that served Hawkes as he climbed the sheer face of the cliff.  Navigating half-completed skyscrapers carrying I-beams on his back had been everyday fare then; climbing the slippery side of a mountain wasn't that much different.  Just had to be careful where you placed your feet and remember not to look down.

He stopped as he realized that Tyler was falling behind him but she waved him on. It was still more than a hundred feet to the top straight up. The cave had obviously been in the deeper part of the ravine.  If this had been they'd fallen the day before they would never have survived.

In the sky above them, the lead SA-43 winged one of the Chig planes, which then faltered and crashed to the ground.  Five planes to go.  The Chig planes retreated back into space, followed closely by the SA-43s.

Below Hawkes, Tyler paused to catch her breath.  Even through the heavy gloves she could feel the rope burning her hands, and her shoulder was aching.  She cursed herself mentally.  She had climbed less than two hundred feet and already she was faltering.

She did her best to hide it, to compensate, but there seemed to be no escaping the fact that she just wasn't as strong as she used to be.  Maybe she should have listened when the doctors prescribed a few more weeks of rest, but she had been in a hurry to get back to war.   She took another deep, steadying breath and resumed her climb with increased determination. Demios had taken so much from her already, it wasn't going to rob her of this, too.

The rope jerked in her hands and she panicked for a split second, thinking it had broken.  Then she realized that Hawkes had reached the top, and was steadily pulling her upwards, aiding her ascent.

 _Damn, but he's strong,_ she admitted grudgingly, even enviously.  And he had recovered from his ordeal so quickly.  _Must be an InVitro thing._

She accepted the hand he reached down to her, and he pulled her  all the way to the top.  As soon as she was steady on her own legs, she pulled out one of her smoke flares, breaking it in half and throwing it a few dozen feet away in one easy motion. It took a few seconds, but  the APC that had passed their position and was steadily mowing away finally made a U-turn back.

"Cool," said Hawkes, grinning slightly.  "We'll be back in time for breakfast."

* * *

Nathan watched silently as Cullen and Rain fussed over Hawkes in the medbay. Rain kept giving Cooper hearty slaps on the back, and Cullen was feeding him breakfast. Hawkes was grinning widely, a little kid enjoying the attention.

Upon alighting from the APC, Tyler had headed straight for the standby medical unit, and conversed quietly with the doctor-on-call.  Before anyone knew it, a team of interns had dragged Hawkes off to medbay for a complete physical.  She had then spared a few moments for the rest of them before going off to report to Ross.

"I see you made it back okay," she had commented to them, before turning to Rain. "Run into any trouble?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle, Captain," Rain had assured her.

"Good," she had stated.  "I'll expect the mission report by 1700 today."

"I'll get on it, Captain," Rain had  nodded.

She had shaken her head.  "No."

"Excuse me, Captain?"

West had been surprised when she had turned to him.  "You do it," she had ordered.

"Excuse me?" he had echoed Rain's question.

"The mission report, Lieutenant," she had repeated.  "In my hands by 1700 today.  I'm sure you're up to it."

She had left then and Nathan could only look helplessly at Rain, expecting the tall Cherokee to resent Tyler's arbitrary pronouncement.

Instead Rain had grinned good-naturedly at Nathan.  "Great.  I hate paperwork."

Now, as he watched the three of them, Nathan had to reconsider his opinion of Cullen and Rain.   They genuinely seemed to care for Hawkes.  And he had to admit that as much as he may dislike or distrust Tyler, she _had_ taken good care of Hawkes.

Hawkes was alright, he thought, and he knew somehow that Hawkes would be fine.  Maybe he **could** leave and not have to worry.  Maybe he could go home.

Hawkes finally saw him and gave him a huge grin and a thumbs-up signal. Rain and Cullen saw him, too, and made their excuses to Hawkes.

"You guys don't have to leave," he told them as they went past him.

"He says he has something he wants to talk to you about," Cullen said.  "We'll come back later."

"Hey, man." He greeted Cooper as he sat on the bed.  "You okay?  They said you had a cold."

"I sneezed a couple of times, that's all!" Hawkes protested.  "InVitros are immune to the common cold, you know that."

"Well, there's hardly anything common about falling into a lake and practically freezing to death," argued West.  "We could have lost you, man."

"Yeah," said Hawkes, looking thoughtful for a moment.

"Hey, I didn't mean to bum you out."

"It ain't that," said Hawkes.  "Nathan, remember that fight we had about Kylen?"

"Yeah?"

"I know it ain't true.  About you not caring, I mean.   But, heck, you joined the Corps because of her."

"Yeah," he said again.   "So?"

"Then when the war began, you fought because you thought she'd been killed…" Hawkes continued.   "And later on you stayed because you needed to find her… so maybe…"

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe now that she's back on Earth, maybe that's where you should be, too."

Nathan's head snapped up,  his eyes staring at Hawkes like the InVitro had gone insane.  "You think I should leave the Corps?"

"Maybe," said Hawkes.

"But I thought you didn't want me to," he protested.   "I thought…"

"Hey, man," said Cooper, intensely.  "You're the only family I got left.  I need you.  But I'd rather have you back on Earth than watch you get blown up because you ain't paying attention."  He leaned closer, concern and sincerity evident on his face.  "Hell, buddy, you've done so much for this war I bet they'd give you a discharge easy if you asked.  And if they don't, I could always break your leg or something."

Nathan grinned. "You'd do that for me?" he asked in wry amusement.

"In a second," Cooper assured him seriously.

"But what about you?  What about the 58th?"

"Well, Cullen and Rain, they're okay," answered Hawkes, obviously having already considered the question.   "They're okay.  They're not Wang and Damphousse, but they're okay.  They're good guys."

Nathan noticed he didn't mention the other party involved. "And Tyler?"

"Tyler?"   Hawkes' forehead wrinkled slightly in consternation. "I don't know, yet.   But I think I'll be okay.  It's you I'm worried about."

 _It's you I'm worried about._

That one sentence hit Nathan like a ton of bricks.  Seven year old Hawkes, the product of government who didn't care shit once they found out their experiments were useless, who had been dragged into this war by a judge with a twisted sense of humor, who had lost practically everyone he cared about, who had been screwed by the again and again world his entire life, was worried about **him**.

He looked at Cooper somberly, wondering how he could have forgotten all that in his self-pity.  The team wasn't gone, he thought.  Cooper was still here. This was still the 58th.  "God, Coop, I'm sorry."

Cooper looked confused.  "Sorry for what?  What'd you do?"

"For worrying you," Nathan answered simply.  "You don't have to do that anymore.  I promise I'll pay attention from now on.  I'll even try to get along with Cullen and  Rain.  I don't know about Tyler, though," he said, teasing Cooper by echoing his earlier words.

Cooper perked up. "So you're not leaving?" he asked, hopefully.

"Not without you."

Cooper blinked, once again confused. "But I already told you -- I'm not leaving."

"That's what I said," agreed Nathan, grinning.  "We're not leaving."

* * *

"Glad to see you and Lieutenant Hawkes made it back in one piece, Captain," said Ross as they neared the end of the debriefing session.  "For a while there you had all of us worried."

"There's going to be a few pointed comments about the accuracy of the Intel submitted to me in my report, Commodore," she informed him.  "Not only did they fail to inform us of the storm, there was an entire canyon missing from their maps."

"I'll be sure to reprimand those responsible," he assured her.   "Our latest reports show that the Chigs are leaving this sector.  I'd say this mission is a success, Captain, and with no lives lost."

"I'd say this mission was a success, then, Commodore," she commented.

"Yes," Ross answered.  "Would that all our victories were this easy."

"Let's just enjoy this one, Sir," Tyler responded coolly.

"I suppose you're right," said Ross.

"You'll have my official report by 2000 tonight, Commodore," she added, briskly.  "If there's nothing else I'd like to be excused.  I really need to get into a shower and some fresh clothes."

"Actually, Tyler," Ross said with a small smile, " I do have some additional news for you.  News I believe you've been waiting to hear."

"Let me guess," she said, mock-seriously. "Corps Command has taken pity on me and is giving me another squadron."

"No."  The Commodore shook his head, the smile never leaving his face.  "But in two weeks you will no longer shoulder sole command or responsibility for the 58th."

She looked at him in surprise.  "You found us a new CO?"

"Even better than that," he answered, the smile turning into a full-fledged grin.   "I got your old one back."

She grew cold at the possibility and struggled to keep her expression neutral. "Major MacLaughlin?" she inquired, casually.

"Colonel McQueen."

* * *

Epilogue

 

Captain Morgan Rhianna Tyler sat at a lone computer console accessing all available information on USMC Lt. Colonel Tyrius Cassius McQueen.

Colonel TC McQueen, she thought.  Major Murphy MacLaughlin.  Shit, even their names sounded the same.  She suppressed the instinctive shudder and determinedly went on with her work.

 _Okay, regroup._

Having a CO was a fact of Marine life, like bad food and rock-hard beds. One of the things she couldn't do anything about.

Well, at least not **obviously**.

So what if he turned out to be the biggest hard-ass in the Corps and he was coming back to bust **her** ass from the 'Toga to the Earth for picking on his two sweet-cheeked little boys, which, by the way, they made so easy?

She'd find a way to handle him.

Maybe she'd get lucky and he wouldn't give her any problems.  After all, all signs seemed to indicate an easygoing CO, one whose laxness would be responsible for the insubordination Hawkes and West seemed to thrive on.

Still, an InVitro didn't survive 120 days of solitary and the AI War to become Lieutenant Colonel by being easygoing and nice.  And the man did use to be an Angel.

 _Why, the Angels had been **almost** as good as the 'Wings,_ she thought, smiling wryly.   _Amazing what good PR can do for a squadron._

She'd managed to convince the Commodore not to tell the group about McQueen' s return for now.  West and Hawkes were distracted enough as it is, she'd pointed out, and she didn't want them to be disappointed in case anything happened and the plan fell through.   Thankfully, Ross had agreed.  That gave her a little more time to make some plans of her own.

She keyed in the grand total of her knowledge about McQueen so far.

Decanted 2043,  InVitro batch control number 2025 Kappa 9757, Gene pool 13-C, Anchorage Facility.

USMC serial number 821-36-97440.

Divorced.

Cross-reference: Omicron Draconis Mining Colony.

Port Riskin, Munitions Sector.

Artificial Intelligence War.

127th 'Angry Angels'  Attack Squadron.

58th WildCards.

She hesitated for a second, and then added: US Navy Commodore Glen Van Ross.

SpaceNet had some stuff on McQueen, mostly general information.  Some press articles published by the InVitro Rights Association.  And then there was that video the Armed Forces Network shot and aired earlier in the year. Aside from that there were just stories, mostly urban legend-type stuff. Nothing really very helpful.

She scowled at the console as her search came up empty.  McQueen's military file had been shut tight, ultra-classified.  Served her right for going after the information directly, she thought.  She should have known better. Nothing was ever that easy.

That didn't mean, however, that she couldn't get the information she needed. Ignoring the slight twinge of pain in her hands, she continued, her fingers flew over the keyboard, coaxing the system to respond.

For the good stuff she had to get into the system.

It was a great system, practically foolproof.  After the AIs had rebelled, it had been overhauled, redesigned completely from scratch by some of the best minds in the military.  But if there was anything she knew about computers, it was that every system had a backdoor. She'd bet her late grandmother's entire CD collection that there was one here, too, and that she could find it.  Men were always horribly predictable when it came to key codes and encryptions.

 _Besides, it was just a personnel file.  What kind of security could they have given it?_

Two hours and seventeen minutes later, she was in.  She would have been done sooner, but her hands gave her some problems.  She stared at the scars on her right hand for just a moment, then closed her fist and dismissed the pain.

She turned her attention back to the computer monitor.

 _Come on, Colonel,_ she silently challenged as it began spewing out information.  _Surprise me._

 _  
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[](http://www.crosswinds.net/%7Edrknite/GenStories/left1.html)

© JCSA[ __](mailto:SeuneAeryk@hotmail.com)December 17, 1998 12:34 AM  
  
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